


Christmas at 221B Baker Street

by Meretricious (MrsSaxon)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 221B Baker Street, Christmas, Fluff, Jam, Light-Hearted, M/M, Mistletoe, Presents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-08
Updated: 2011-10-08
Packaged: 2017-10-24 10:20:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/262384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsSaxon/pseuds/Meretricious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Exactly what it says on the tin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas at 221B Baker Street

“Happy Christmas, John,” Sherlock drawled, plopping a rather heavy package into John’s lap.

“Uh… you know Christmas isn’t until tomorrow Sherlock?”

“Yes of course. Dreadful time of year, far too much false-charity and TV specials, no one does any proper work over the holidays…” Sherlock groaned sadly, huddling in his favorite armchair and switching on the telly, even knowing nothing remotely interesting would be on.

“Yes because why on earth would we want to take a break from our work to spend time with family and friends,” John rolled his eyes, not expecting Sherlock to catch the sarcasm. Sighing, he decided to humor his socially inept friend and unwrapped the package. “It’s jam… you got me jam?”

“Yes, you like jam, so I got you some more,” Sherlock was suddenly at his ear, making John jump.

“How did you- never mind… er… ta…” he unscrewed the lid, “Oooh fig… it’s nice,” he smiled a bit.

Sherlock’s thin lips quirked looking down at John with a hint of pride in his face; not that he’d ever admit it, but he was searching for approval of his present from John. The only person he’d ever given a gift to in the past was Mycroft, and they always got each other the same thing, the biggest book of crosswords in the shop and then timed themselves to see who could get it done faster. Last year Mycroft won, but only by 15.2 seconds, much to his displeasure. Sherlock had a good feeling about this year though.

John looked up at him, “It’s lovely, thank you,” he smiled sincerely, the jam was actually unexpectedly high quality, Sherlock must have put actual thought into this gift, which was… well, to put it lightly, John was afraid if he breathed the small trace of affection in the gesture might disappear.

Sherlock’s bright eyes gleamed brighter at the approval, he then immediately swept away, “And I got milk,” he flopped back in his chair.

John frowned for a bit, then sat up, “Sherlock are you… are you actually trying to do something nice for Christmas?”

Sherlock looked up sharply, “Well that’s what people do isn’t it? They’re nice to each other.”

John coughed, “Yes but…” Whatever he was about to say was interrupted by the arrival of Mrs. Hudson.

“Hello dears, I just thought I’d bring you some Christmas cheer seeing as you’re both alone for the holidays,” she toddled, inviting herself into the flat.

“Happy Christmas Mrs. Hudson” John smiled warmly standing up to hug her.

“Happy Christmas John, and happy Christmas to you too Sherlock,” she smiled blithely.

“Happy Christmas, sorry I don’t do hugs,” Sherlock returned, not looking up, suddenly fascinated in the television program.

“Er, don’t mind him, his just put out he doesn’t get to do case work over Christmas…” John quickly made excuses for Sherlock’s poor behavior.

“It’s quite alright dear. Here, I brought you this,” she held up a sprig of mistletoe, “I thought you two might like a bit of decoration…”

Just as John was about to bluster that he and Sherlock were NOT an item, another voice interrupted, “Oh is there a party?”

“Mycroft! What’re you… I mean, happy Christmas,” John greeted him rather belatedly.

Mycroft simply swept past the commotion in the doorway. Sherlock looked up, eyes narrowing. “You didn’t tell me you were entertaining Sherlock, I would have brought the whole family,” Mycroft smiled, but like all his smiles, it was that of a viper.

“I’m not, it was John’s idea to have the land lady over for a Christmas top up and then we’re all going to bed, now why are you here Mycroft?” Sherlock’s brazen lie was formed out of a long habit of never telling his brother the truth about anything.

“Can’t I visit my only brother on Christmas Eve?” Mycroft shrugged amicably.

“Even John knows that’s a lie, and since you’ve interrupted my very pleasant Christmas Eve, I think you owe me your real reason,” the chill in Sherlock’s voice was as sharp as the wind outside.

Mycroft’s smile finally dropped, “I merely came to deliver this,” he thrust a neatly wrapped package at Sherlock, “I trust you know what it is.”

Sherlock’s lips quirked slightly, taking it, “What, no note from mummy to go with it?”

Grudgingly, Mycroft retrieved an envelope addressed to Sherlock in spidery, intricate handwriting and gave him that as well.

John decided to divert the subject from the Holmes family as to avoid blank stares from the other parties, “What’ve you done with your umbrella Mycroft?”

Mycroft turned as if he’d just noticed him, “Hmmmmm?”

John pointed at the handle, “That, there.”

“Oh yes!” Mycroft smiled, looking fondly at his umbrella, “It’s holly, a bit of Christmas cheer, you know,” he smiled again as if this was the height of celebrating the season.

“Ah… yes, well… it’s very charming,” John smiled awkwardly. Mycroft simply nodded, not noticing.

“Well dears I’d better be going, my sister in law brought her family down and I have mouths to feed,” she simpered quietly, exiting the flat, leaving John with the mistletoe still pressed in his palm.

“Yes, I’d better be off too, I’d ask you to Christmas dinner Sherlock, but you never come so I won’t bother asking,” he threw his brother a look which Sherlock pointedly ignored, “Good evening to you both, enjoy your holiday.” And with a flourish of his umbrella, he was gone as well.

John closed the door with a sigh, “At last…”

Sherlock frowned, “Raise your right arm.”

John stared perplexed, “What for?”

Sherlock got up, “I want to test something,” he drew closer.

“What, my capacity to- mmpf!” the rest of his sentence was cut off by Sherlock suddenly swooping down and kissing him.

After a brief moment Sherlock relinquished his mouth, but didn’t leave John’s personal bubble. He licked his lips thoughtfully.

John stared, then slowly regained his voice, “Wh-what was that for?”

Sherlock smirked, leaning back, “Mistletoe.”


End file.
